I have a friend called Amanda. I’ve not known her all that long, we became close about six months ago but she had been hovering around the edge for a couple of months before that. The problem is that she has become a right royal pain in the backside. She won’t do a single thing I tell her to, she has developed a mind of her own and she has managed to get herself into a long and drawn out conversation with another good friend Mrs Rossi and she’s stuck there. There doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do to rescue her, and believe me I’ve tried. I have a vested interest. She is the key character in my current novel.
Following a conversation on Twitter with Seymour Jacklin I have an idea. When my children were small I was always surprised by the comments about their wonderful behaviour and how they ate everything put in front of them when they went to visit friends. For they were certainly no paragons of virtue at home. It occurred to me that if we could bring our children up in other people’s houses then they would always be well behaved and clear their plates. So I am extrapolating that theory to ill behaved characters.
I will give you Amanda and you can give me that irritating twerp who has got himself in a locked room with a psychopathic dog and a banana. There, all sorted !